


Return To Sender?

by novemberhush



Series: Paging Dr. Freud [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: And I'm a big nerd, And Mike knows it, And the 'Star Trek' references, Because Captain Kirk is the man, Because Harvey's mother really did a number on him, Boy I'm bad at tags, But Mike's no quitter!, But so are these two so it all works out okay, Cue the fluff, Harvey loves Mike, M/M, Well some angst for a start, What will happen when Harvey discovers Mike returns his feelings?, marvey, sorry about that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:43:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8731741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/pseuds/novemberhush
Summary: Harvey Specter poured out his feelings for Mike Ross into a love letter he never intended Mike to read. But the Boy Wonder accidentally stumbled across it and wrote Harvey a letter back declaring his own feelings. The question is, what happened next? Well, this is the answer ...





	1. R.S.V.P.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zimdan19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zimdan19/gifts).



> Hi! First, thanks to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on the first part of this series, 'Paging Dr. Freud'. It means more to me than I can say. And to those kind enough to express interest in a follow-up fic, well, this is for you. I hope it doesn't disappoint! If you haven't read that part yet you should probably do so before reading this one as it'll make more sense to you (hopefully!). Second, thanks to Sairyn for the beta and adding sunshine to my life just by being in it. Third, I own none of the characters, shows, songs, etc, mentioned herein, more's the pity. And if you don't already know his music, please go check out Josh Ritter's work! You won't regret it. :-)

_Every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied_

  
\- lyric from the song ‘Kathleen’ by Josh Ritter  
  


  
Harvey woke with what felt like a throat full of sand and a head full of shattered glass. As per usual, his heart felt like a boat that had endured the night before being hurled upon the rocks and only just survived intact. That was a common feeling for it these days, and never more so after time spent in Mike’s company. It wasn’t that being with Mike didn’t buoy Harvey up. It did. It was just that always having to watch the man he loved walk away from him, whether it had been to return to his cell in Danbury or to his fiancé, sent him crashing right back down again. Ripping him from the crest of a wave and dashing him against the rocky shoreline, setting him on a collision course with pain, regret, jealousy and, yeah, Harvey could admit it, loneliness.

  
Except … Harvey didn’t remember watching Mike leave last night. He ventured to crack open one eye, and immediately rued that decision when a ray of light peeping through a gap in his curtains hit him like a bad cop in an old movie, hard and square in the face. Groaning, he tried to gather together the remnants of last night that were gingerly picking their way through the shards of broken glass in his head, and hoping not to end up like Willis in ‘Die Hard’, feet bloody and having the worst day of his life.

  
He remembered the bar, giving Mike the offer letter to return to the firm (not the only letter he had wanted to give him, but the safest one, the one least likely to leave him watching Mike walk away from him for good), and he remembered the scotch. Oh boy, did he remember the scotch. He still didn’t remember Mike walking away, though.

  
Slowly the pieces of last night knit themselves together into something resembling a pattern Harvey could recognise. Unfortunately, the pattern screamed more ‘ugly Christmas sweater made by Grandma’ than ‘Tom Ford made to measure menswear’. The feeling of Mike’s arms around him as he swayed to and fro out of the bar, stumbling over his own designer-clad feet and into a taxi, filtered through the fog of memory. That was not how he had envisioned his first time in Mike’s arms (beyond the few meagre hugs they had shared that had always left him aching for more) being. He groaned again at the remembrance of just how wasted he had been.

  
“You stay classy, Specter,” he rasped, finally managing to roll over and swing his legs off the bed. _Water_. He needed to rehydrate before he attempted to put together any more fragments of the evening before. Glancing at the bedside clock to ascertain just how much of the morning he had lost to last night’s excess he was surprised to find the very thing he was about to go in search of. A long, cool drink of water. Not the long, cool, blue-eyed drink of water he longed to wake up to every morning, but a welcome one all the same.

  
He downed half the glass in a few quick gulps, chasing the two aspirins whoever had left the water had also thoughtfully supplied and pondered the presence of all this on his nightstand. He knew there was no way he’d been in a coherent enough state last night to think this far ahead so someone else had taken care of it for him. There were only a handful of people who could anticipate Harvey’s needs like that, or who cared to. He was pretty sure he’d remember if Donna or Marcus had turned up at some point during his little binge session of scotch and self-pity, and Jessica probably would have left him to suffer, so that left … Mike.

  
Harvey groaned for the third time in as many minutes. It wasn’t enough that he had gotten so hammered in front of Mike that he had to be helped from the bar, helped into a cab, into his apartment, into his own _bed_. No, he had to get himself into such a state Mike had felt obliged to take care of him like a wayward child. _He_ was the one who was supposed to take care of Mike, not the other way round. But that way lay another round of self-pity and self-indulgent pining and Harvey Specter didn’t have time for whiners and cry-babies. Mike was a free man, a safe man, and that was all that mattered. And although he would never be Harvey’s man, he was still his guy, his friend, his _family_ , and that wasn’t nothing. That was something. Something incredible. And Harvey would settle for Mike in his life in whatever way he could have him. Just like he’d said in his letter. Which was when his eye fell upon another letter, one set a little further back on the nightstand with Harvey’s name on it in Mike’s handwriting.

  
Something like a jolt of molten lava fired through Harvey’s veins, sweeping away all vestiges of his hangover. His mind was wide awake and crystal clear now. Yesterday he had written Mike a letter and today he had woken up to one from him in return. Sure, he hadn’t given Mike his letter ( _Had he?_ He swiftly ran through all his collected memories of the previous evening and reassured himself that, no, he had not.), but the timing felt more than a little coincidental. It felt … Harvey wasn’t sure what it felt.

  
Scary? Thrilling? _Right?_ Yeah, all of those things, but mainly it felt _right_. But ever the realist, he hurried to tamp down the hope rising in his chest, beginning to lift his heart, a little bruised and battered, but still seaworthy, like a rising tide lifts all boats and bears them away from the rocks. Harvey dealt in realities, harsh or otherwise, not wishful thinking, no matter how tempting it was. There was no way he could know what was in Mike’s letter. Not without opening it. Well, he might be too much of a coward to tell Mike how he really felt about him, but he refused to be cowed by an envelope bearing his name and the writing of the man he loved. He might be a coward, but Mike wasn’t. If he had something to say to Harvey that Harvey wouldn’t want to hear, he would say it to his face, like a man. And Harvey couldn’t let himself hope that Mike’s letter was a reflection of his own, full of love and longing. Or so he told himself. His damn heart, though, it was floating on a sea, not of serenity or tranquility, but of dreams and expectations. _Hope_. The like of which Harvey had never known he housed the capacity for until Mike had stumbled into his life and turned it upside down and inside out and, ultimately, right way round.

  
_Stop it, Specter!_ It was probably nothing more than a response to the offer letter Harvey had issued Mike with on behalf of the firm, that was all. _Don’t get carried away with yourself_ , Harvey chastised himself, as he pretended it was the effects of the alcohol he’d attempted to drown his sorrows in last night, and nothing else, that was causing his hands to shake. He opened the envelope as carefully as possible, as if trying to preserve the purity and integrity of it for future generations. Sliding out the folded-up missive as if he thought it might crumble into so much dust in his hands he steeled himself with a deep breath and proceeded to read Mike’s words. Although drinking them in might have been a better way of putting it.

  
By the time he got to the end and Mike’s multiple P.S.s he was laughing and crying in equal measure. He had to hold the letter away from his body so as not to ruin its pristine beauty with what he deemed to be his unworthy tears, flowing freely down his smiling face and dripping off his chin like fat, little droplets of water from the eaves of a frozen roof, ice melting in the morning sun. _This couldn’t be real. **Could it?**_ Could Mike really return his feelings? Could he _really_ be that lucky?

  
A noise from the other room caught his attention, as surely as the realisation Mike really was still here, just like he promised in his letter, caught his breath in his throat. _He was still here!_ Waiting for Harvey to come and find him. Waiting for Harvey to go out there and claim him as his own. But he was pacing, or so it sounded. Mike was a bundle of nervous energy at the best of times, Harvey knew that, loved it, but pacing meant more than just being restless. It meant nervousness, _real_ nervousness, not just an excess of energy. It meant fear. Why was Mike afraid? Did he regret what he had written?

  
_No!_ Harvey refused to think that. Couldn’t think that. After all, he was feeling nervous too, if he was being honest with himself. Of course he was. Of course they both were. They had just stripped their souls naked and bared them to the person with the most power to wound them. Words on a page were one thing. A lovely, precious thing to be pored over and memorised, the memory of them enough to warm the coldest nights, but they were still just that, words on a page. They were two hearts connecting, but they weren’t the touch of a loving hand against warm skin, they weren’t fingers gently carding through soft hair and they weren’t the consuming fire or soothing balm of a soulmate’s kiss. And that was what they both needed the reassurance of now. _Right?_ There was only one way to find out. Mike had left Harvey an invitation to the rest of his life. It was only good manners he should R.S.V.P., wasn’t it? Joy wrestling fear, Harvey reached for his phone, still not sure which emotion would win out…


	2. Sealed With A Kiss

  
_Hoping you will come and untangle me one of these days_

  
_-_ lyric from the song 'Come And Find Me' by Josh Ritter

  
Mike sat on Harvey’s couch, chewed his fingernails and wondered when the hell Harvey was going to get out here. He thought about all the times he’d slept on this couch while wishing he was sleeping in Harvey’s bed instead. With Harvey. He wondered if that was finally about to happen. Well, minus the sleeping part. Because Mike had also spent many sleepless nights thinking about all the things he and Harvey could get up to together in that bed that _didn’t_ involve sleeping.

  
On more than one occasion during his stay there in the aftermath of the Rachel kissing Logan Sanders incident he had pondered what might happen if he only had the guts to creep quietly into Harvey’s room. Slip quietly into his bed. Lay a gentle hand on his back to wake him. Watch him roll over dozily to take in the sight of Mike there in bed with him. See the confusion and bafflement before comprehension set in. What then? Would his eyes have lit up, wide and soft as melted chocolate, crinkling at the corners as he smiled? Or would they have narrowed, hardened, turned to ice or anger as his mouth set in a sneer or a rage?

  
Mike smiled, remembering all his fears and doubts. Smiled because each and every one of them had been obliterated by the letter Harvey had written him. Okay, he had never intended Mike to see it, but that was beside the point. _Wasn’t it?_ Yes, of course it was. Harvey hadn’t intended Mike to see the letter because he thought Mike didn’t return his feelings, but that wasn’t an issue anymore. That was _so_ not an issue anymore. It never had been. Mike had been gone on Harvey for as long as he could remember. And Harvey’s letter confirmed he felt the same way about Mike. So everything was going to work out. Harvey was going to be so happy when he read Mike’s letter and realised his feelings were reciprocated. _Right?_

  
Nerves tickled at Mike’s stomach. What if this was all some gigantic mistake, some horrible misunderstanding? What if Harvey didn’t really mean all those things he’d written? What if Mike had just monumentally and catastrophically fucked up by leaving that answering letter, full of his own declarations of love and lust and everything in between, by Harvey’s bed as he slept? Part of him wondered if he should sneak back in and take it back.

  
_No!_ That was not going to happen! Mike reread Harvey’s letter in his head for the umpteenth time. He didn’t need to retrieve it from the beloved copy of ‘Curious George’ his parents gave him and Father Walker saved for him. No, it remained where it was, safe inside the book he had made sure to snag when he’d packed a bag and left the apartment he shared with Rachel. He stowed it away for safekeeping, for posterity, one token of love inside another, both to be cherished for all time. It lay snug, nestled between the pages of the book. Like Mike hoped to soon be nestled between the sheets of Harvey’s bed. Hoped to be nestled between _Harvey_ and the mattress of said bed.

  
Even without an eidetic memory he knew the words in that letter would have been seared in his brain for all eternity. Fate, life, or dumb fucking luck, take your pick, but one of them had finally given Mike the opening he had needed to reveal his feelings for Harvey to the man himself. He wasn’t going to chicken out now. Everything he wanted was within reach and there was no going back. But that didn’t help quell the nerves. Mike launched himself off the couch and started to pace back and forth, fingernails once again making their way to his mouth. He almost punched himself in the face when his phone message alert chimed in the silent except for his footsteps condo, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

  
Cursing under his breath at whoever dared to interrupt his nervous breakdown, he fumbled his phone out of his pocket, and glanced at the name on the screen. If he was nervous before he wasn’t sure how to describe what he was when he saw ‘El Jefe’ displayed there. El Jefe. The Boss. _Harvey._ Terrified? Yeah, that might just about cover it. Sending up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening he took a deep breath and opened the message.

  
_Mike, I was going to ask if this was real or if I was dreaming, but the sound of your frankly embarrassingly cheap shoes wearing a hole in my frankly extortionately expensive flooring makes me inclined to think that you really did sneak in here in the middle of the night and leave me this letter. But if you’re pacing the way I think you are (and if you’re biting your nails, stop it right now), I’m guessing you’re a little more nervous than the bravado in your letter would imply. Well, I got news for you, kid - me too._

  
Mike quickly tapped out a reply and hit 'send’.

  
_You? The great Harvey Specter? Nervous? I think I’m the one in need of a reality check._

  
His phone chirped again almost immediately.

  
_Yeah. Go figure._

  
Once again, Mike responded.

  
_Why are we so nervous? I mean, this is what we both want._

  
He hesitated briefly before adding, _Isn’t it?_

  
Harvey’s reply came in under a minute, but it felt an eternity to Mike.

  
_I thought I made myself pretty clear in my letter, Mike._

  
_And me in mine_ , Mike fired back before throwing his hands up in the air and muttering, “This is ridiculous!”

  
Marching towards Harvey’s bedroom door he shouted, “You decent in there, Specter? Not that it matters, because I’m coming in either way!”

  
He paused for a second when his hand settled on the door handle, bracing himself, then ploughed on in, words already tripping off his tongue.

  
“Look, Harvey, I meant every wor…,” he began, directing his attention to the bed where he expected Harvey to be. But he wasn’t. The bed was empty, just like the rest of the room. Mike was just wondering when Harvey had turned into Houdini when he heard a noise behind a door to his left and the vanishing act was explained. Harvey was in his en suite bathroom. Taking Mike’s advice about brushing his teeth before their first kiss perhaps? Mike certainly hoped so.

  
The thought sent a shot of adrenaline rushing through his veins. It also made him cup his hand to his mouth and huff out a breath which he quickly sniffed to ensure he was still minty fresh himself. Catching a glimpse of himself in Harvey’s full length mirror in the corner of the room Mike rolled his eyes at his behaviour. He knew fine well that if Harvey were to come in now and lift him up and carry him to the bed ( _oh, God, yes!_ ) he’d rattle like the box of Tic-Tacs he’d devoured while waiting for Harvey to wake up. Laughing at his conduct, which reminded him of his anxious teenage years but with better hair now (and satisfied his mouth was kiss-ready, even if the rest of him wasn’t), he suddenly realised he didn’t know what to do with himself. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he cast an eye around the room, taking in all the little things he had missed or hadn’t had time to take in before.

  
Things like the bottle of cologne he gave Harvey every year on the anniversary of the day they met, the same type Harvey had been wearing that first day. Smiling, he drifted over to the dressing table and opened it, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. _Harvey_. Well, partly. Because Mike knew there was another scent under the cologne, the body wash, the shampoo and the hair gel. One that was uniquely Harvey. One that was addictive. And one which Mike couldn’t wait to fill his senses with, to be enveloped in, surrounded by, to _taste_.

  
Glancing again towards the bed, Mike grinned and set the bottle aside. Tearing off his shoes and socks, one leg at a time, he hopped to the unmade bed and practically dived between the sheets, burying his nose in the pillow on the side Harvey clearly favoured. Ah, there it was! Pure, undiluted Harvey. It was almost as good as the real thing. _Almost_. Dragging his face reluctantly from the pillow Mike rolled on to his back and on to the other side of the bed. _His side now?_ Again, he hoped.

  
A smile meandered across his face as the thought crossed his mind that no matter how much he enjoyed the way Harvey’s bed linen smelt now he was only going to like it better when it smelt of both him and Harvey. The thought was both comforting and arousing. Only the sound of the bathroom door opening at that second stopped him from rolling around in the sheets again, trying to leave something of his own scent on them. Trying to mark his territory so everyone knew this was where he belonged. And Harvey was who he belonged with.

  
He looked up in time to see half a dozen things flit across Harvey’s face, the face he loved, at the sight of Mike in his bed. Shock, disbelief, relief, awe, happiness, _desire_. And then the shutters came down again and the mask slipped back into place. Mike wanted to rid Harvey of that mask for good. Slowly he hauled himself up into a sitting position, back against the plush headboard. He watched as Harvey cautiously made his way towards the bed and sat down at Mike’s feet. _Too far away._

  
He was wearing the black bathrobe Mike had occasionally glimpsed him in when he had stayed here before, his tanned, muscular legs bare. Mike wondered briefly if he was wearing anything beneath it before shaking that thought away. There were things they both needed to say before Mike could go delving beneath that robe. And judging by Harvey’s tight-lipped silence and seeming refusal to meet Mike’s eyes it looked like Mike was going to have to start them off. That was okay, he didn’t mind. Harvey had got the ball rolling on this thing between them by writing that letter. Mike was more than willing to pick that ball up and run with it. Harvey’s words in that letter and the look on his face just now as he took in the sight of Mike in his bed, in his _sheets_ , gave Mike the courage to say what had to be said.

  
“Harvey,” he began. “I meant every word, you know. In my letter. I want this. I want you. And I think you want it, too. Want me. I think you meant every word in your letter, too.”

  
“I did,” Harvey nodded, head bowed, still not looking at Mike.

  
Mike swallowed, nerves once again making their presence felt.

  
“Did … or do?” he asked, holding his breath, waiting for Harvey to answer.

  
“Do,” Harvey replied immediately. Mike sighed in relief, shoulders suddenly sagging as they released the tension he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding in them.

  
“Then why are you sitting down there at my feet instead of lying up here in my arms?” Mike queried.

  
“Because…,” Harvey continued and Mike instantly felt the tension snake through him again.

  
“Because?” he pressed, afraid of the answer that might be coming next, but he’d come this far, _they’d_ come this far, and Mike wasn’t giving up on them now. Not without putting up the fight of his life, if need be.

  
“Because this time yesterday you were engaged to someone else, Mike. You were lying in her bed, looking at her the way you’re looking at me. How do I know that tomorrow, or a hundred tomorrows from now, you won’t be waking me up in the middle of the night to tell me you’re leaving me for someone else?”

  
Mike wondered briefly how Harvey could ever doubt this feeling between them wasn’t as real for Mike as it was for Harvey himself, but putting himself in Harvey’s handmade Italian shoes for a second, he began to understand. Harvey had witnessed firsthand what a fickle partner could do a person’s heart. The memory of the hurt caused by his mother’s infidelities and romantic capriciousness still burned bright in his soul. But Mike was determined to douse the fire of doubt forever. He was going to make Harvey believe in this love if it was the last thing he ever did. He chose his next words carefully, endowing them with every ounce of sincerity and earnestness he could muster. And Mike was _**made**_ of sincerity and earnestness. (And, yeah, okay, maybe just a dash of cockiness, a hint of sarcasm and a soupçon of sass.)

  
“It’s true, yesterday I was with Rachel. But I _never_ looked at her like I look at you. I’ve never looked at anyone like I look at you. And I didn’t just leave her for 'someone else’. I left her for _you_ , Harvey. _**You**_. The only someone I would have ever left her for. The only someone I would ever leave _anyone_ for. There isn’t anyone I would leave you for. It’s you for me, Harvey. It always has been. Only you. Like the song says, ‘Every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied’. Well, you tied mine. Now’s your chance to untangle them and unwrap what was always yours to begin with. I’m giving you my heart, Harvey. Please don’t stamp it 'return to sender’.”

  
Slowly Harvey raised his hand from where it had been curled in his lap and wrapped it around Mike’s bare ankle, exposed as it was by the leg of his pants having hiked up a little as he had relished rolling around in Harvey’s bed. Mike felt the heat of that touch melt his bones. _His ankle?? Seriously??_ Harvey had made his **_ankle_** into an erogenous zone?? A little voice inside his head asked if he was really so surprised. His whole body burned for Harvey. Every fibre of his being. He was so screwed. _And you’re going to enjoy every moment of it_ , that little voice responded. But Harvey still seemed hesitant. Begrudging the loss of the feel of Harvey’s hand on him, but knowing if he ever wanted to feel it again he had to act quickly, Mike dragged his legs off the bed so he was sitting by Harvey’s side. Tentatively he reached for Harvey’s hand and took it between his own.

  
“I can see you’re still not convinced, counsellor. I gotta tell you, when I read your letter I never thought I’d have to work this hard to make my case.” Mike tried to keep his tone light, jocular, but he knew he wasn’t entirely successful. This was the most serious conversation he was ever going to have. But he and Harvey had always fallen back on banter when they needed to communicate. And there was one topic that was always guaranteed to get Harvey talking…

  
“Okay, I guess I’m going to have to break this down for you in a way you’ll understand,” Mike began. “You’re a Trekkie, right?”

  
Mike couldn’t suppress a laugh at the look Harvey levelled at him.

  
“Mike, I don’t see what that has to do with anything…”

  
“Objection! Relevance, Your Honour! Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m going somewhere with this. Like Perry Mason always says, ‘if it please the court, a little latitude?’ Please? Just … stay with me here, Spockter, I’m getting there,” Mike assured him, squeezing his hand, and preparing to give the most important closing argument of his life.

  
“You’re a Trekkie, so you’ve seen the episode 'The Trouble with Tribbles’, right?”

  
The look Harvey threw him this time may as well have had, _Well, d'uh_ , written all over it.

  
Mike laughed again. “Okay, stupid question. Of course you’ve seen it. Probably about a dozen times.

  
“Mike…,”

  
“No, listen, Harvey!” Mike interrupted, moving closer. Taking a deep breath, he looked Harvey square in the eye.

  
“My love for you is like a Tribble.”

  
Mike could tell that whatever Harvey had been expecting him to say, it was not that! He watched as Harvey stared at him as if he thought he had actually taken leave of his senses before he finally realised Mike really was seriously going somewhere with this.

  
Harvey snorted, “What? Fluffy, bisexual and dying to bury Captain Kirk in a cuddle pile?”

  
“No,” Mike rolled his eyes, before reconsidering, “Well, yes. But that’s not what I meant.”

  
“Well, what did you mean, Mike?”

  
“I mean, my love for you is like a Tribble in that it started out as just one soft, fuzzy, little ball of fur, purring in my ear every time you were close by, trilling at the slightest bit of praise or attention from you. Feeding on everything you gave me, every look, every smile, every single, amazing thing you ever did for me. Feeding - and multiplying. My love for you has grown exponentially over the past 6 years. It is still growing, every day, every _minute_. And just like the Tribbles got into every part of the Enterprise, got right into the machinery, that love has gotten into every part of me, into my inner workings, filling me up, taking me over. And it all came from one tiny little furball.”

"You … you’re an idiot, Ross.” The softness in Harvey’s eyes and the hint of a smile on his lips belied his words, and Mike knew he had gotten through to him.

  
“Yeah, but I’m _your_ idiot,” Mike grinned, beginning to tilt forward into Harvey’s space.

  
“No, Mike, you’re my Scotty,” Harvey said, returning the grin and stopping Mike in his tracks. Mike felt like he’d been punched in the stomach and it showed on his face.

  
“What? What is it?” Harvey asked, voice full of concern.

  
Mike hated the chill he heard creeping into his own voice when he replied, but he couldn’t help it.

  
“I’m your Scotty? Your Freudian slip is showing again, Harvey.” Mike tried to pull his hands away from Harvey’s, but the other man held on the tighter, refusing to let go.

  
“What are you talking abo…” Harvey stopped mid-sentence, realisation dawning on him.

  
“No, you really _are_ my idiot, Mike,” he laughed, causing Mike to glare at him.

  
“I didn’t mean Scottie, as in Dana Scott, my ex-girlfriend, Scottie,” Harvey explained, voice fond now, but just a little teasing. “I meant Scotty, as in Montgomery Scott, chief engineer of the USS Enterprise, _Scotty_. As in you’re the person who maintains me, Mike. The person who keeps me right. Who keeps me flying. _You_ , Mike. No one else. My Scotty. My miracle worker. Chief engineer of the USS Harvey Specter.”

Mike didn’t know how to respond to that statement. Swallowing around the lump that had snuck its way into his throat, he blinked away the tears that had crept into his eyes and felt himself positively _beam_ at Harvey. Which gave him an idea.

  
“Well, in that case - permission to beam aboard, Captain?”

  
“Permission granted,” Harvey smirked.

  
The words had barely left his mouth before Mike had swung one leg over both of Harvey’s, his arms curling round Harvey’s neck and Harvey’s instinctively coming up to circle around Mike’s waist.

  
They both just stared at each other for a moment, drinking in every detail of the other’s visage. Enjoying this new closeness. Close, but not close enough.

  
“Hi,” Mike finally breathed.

  
“Hi,” Harvey returned, just as breathily.

  
They studied each other for another long moment before Harvey spoke again.

  
“I’m sorry, Mike. I never meant you to think I was comparing you to one of my exes,” he murmured. “There is no comparison. They all fade away next to you. I’m sorry I didn’t make the difference clear before I opened my big mouth, but when I say you’re my Scotty, Mike, I mean you’re the only one. This is no other. _You’re_ Scot…”

  
Harvey never got to finish that sentence because Mike hushed him with a finger against his lips.

  
“Ssh, Harvey, it’s all right,” Mike whispered, a playfulness dancing across his features and culminating in a face-splitting grin. “Love means never having to say you’re Scotty.”

  
“Get out,” Harvey mumbled against the finger Mike still held against his lips, face mock stern.

  
Mike giggled and leant his forehead to Harvey’s, shoulders shaking with laughter, and, _God_ , yeah, there was that smell. That smell that was uniquely Harvey and the closest thing to home, to heaven, Mike could imagine.

  
“I can’t believe I want to spend the rest of my life with someone who takes movie quotes and turns them into puns that shitty,” Harvey said, joining in the laughter. Which stopped abruptly when Mike registered what he had said and raised his head to look Harvey in the eyes.

  
“You mean that?” Mike croaked out, mouth suddenly dry.

  
“About that being a shitty pun? You’re goddamn right I do.” Harvey winked, pulling Mike closer.

  
“Yes, Mike, I mean that,” he said, tone turning serious. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.”

  
Cupping his hands round Harvey’s face, Mike fixed him with a look Harvey felt smouldering into his soul.

  
“Oh, I think we can come to some arrangement. After all, you did say in your letter all I had to do was ask,” Mike purred, tracing Harvey’s left eyebrow with a finger before pressing a kiss to each of the two moles that hovered above it. Mike felt Harvey’s smile more than he saw it, marvelling at the little creases that appeared at the corners of Harvey’s eyes and underneath Mike’s own fingertips. He traced them too before canting forward and brushing his nose against Harvey’s. Harvey’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact and Mike seized the opportunity to kiss both his eyelids too.

  
“God, do you know how beautiful your eyes are?” Mike uttered, voice low and wrecked, when Harvey opened them again.

  
“ _My_ eyes?” Harvey enquired. “Are you serious? I’m not the one with Science Division baby blues.”

  
Mike’s eyebrows shot up, incredulous it seemed.

  
“Harvey, did you just compare my eyes to the blue shirts from 'Star Trek’?”

  
“What? You’re the one who started it, with your little Tribble analogy.” Harvey grinned and brushed his own nose against Mike’s this time.

  
“Besides,” he added, pulling back to look at Mike, “prettiest damn colour in the galaxy, if you ask me.”

  
Mike smiled and brought his fingers to Harvey’s lips again, but not to shush him this time. This time he traced them ever so delicately, learning the exact shape and feel of them, until he was sure he would know them anywhere, by feel alone, in the pitch black of night, if necessary. Blindfolded, even. A little shiver ran down his spine at that last thought. _All in_ _due time_ , he thought. After all, they had the rest of their lives together now. Finally he leaned in, bringing his own eager, hungry lips to Harvey’s warm, soft ones. He poured all of himself into the kiss, giving it all over to the man he loved. His heart was a package marked ‘Handle With Care’ and Harvey had signed for it. Mike knew it couldn’t be in safer hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, thanks for reading. Come and find me in the comments section or on tumblr, where I'm also known as novemberhush. I'm always up for talking about our favourite lawyer boyfriends or space husbands! Or anything else you want to talk about. Take care of yourself and those around you. xxx


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